John Spenser a cheshire Gallant, his life and repentance, who for killing of one randal Gem: was lately executed at Burford a mile from Nan●twich.  
To the tune of in slumbering sleep.  
 woodcut of people standing  

KInd hearted men, a while gave ear  
and plainly Ile unsold  
The saddest 〈◇〉 that ever yet,  
by mortal man was  told.  
Our Spenser brave, of Cheshire chief,  
for men of brave 〈◇〉:  
Yet he unto his Countries grief,  
did good with ill reward.   

At action, near Nantwich was born  
this man, so lamp of all;  
Whose skill at each brave exercise,  
was not accounted small:  
For beating of the war-like drum,  
no man could him surpass:  
For dancing, leaping, and such like,  
in Cheshire never was.   

For shooting none durst him oppose,  
bee would aim so faire and right;  
Yet long he shot in crooked bows,  
and could not hit the white:  
For striving still more things to learn,  
the more he grew believed;  
No shoemaker but Spenser brave,  
by women was so proved.   

Those qualities did draw his mind,  
from reason quiter and clean.  
And vildly he'd forsake his wife,  
for the love of every quean:  
By Women he maintained was  
in parill fine and brave,  
John Spenser could no good thing want,  
for he could but ask, and haue.   

In silks and satins would he go,  
none might, with him compare;  
No fashion might devised be,  
but his should be as faire;  
When as( God knows) his wife at home  
should pine with hungry grief,  
And none w●uld pitty her hard case,  
or lend her some relief.   

Whilst had abroad did flaunt it out  
amongst his lustful wickedness,  
poor 〈◇〉 of force she sits at home,  
without either help or 〈◇〉.  
Thus long he 〈…〉,  
〈◇〉 of all thats good,  
Till at th● last 〈…〉,  
he did shed 〈…〉.   

One randal 〈◇〉 b●ing 〈◇〉,  
with Spenser 〈…〉  
And he being apt to quarreling,  
would not be ruled 〈◇〉.  
But about the 〈◇〉 of a glass,  
to which he would not ●eeld,  
He vowed he either would be pledged  
or answered fair in 〈◇〉.   

This answer randal game did deny,  
which Spencer plainly 〈◇〉,  
And being 〈…〉,  
〈◇〉 Rand●lgam 〈◇〉 the ground.  
S●uen 〈…〉 this he lay,  
e●e life from him did pa●●:  
And at the last to earth and 〈◇〉,  
his Body did convert.   

Then Spenser was in prison cast  
his 〈…〉 ●s full far did ly,  
For friendship in them proved could,  
and none could come him me.  
That man being killed, beloved was well  
of all men far and near,  
And some did follow Law so far,  
did cost poor Spenser dear.   

For though he killed him by mischance,  
yet Law him so disdains.  
That for his vnrespected blow,  
be there was hanged in chains.  
He that was killed, had many friends,  
the other ●●w or none,  
Therefore the Law, on that side went,  
and the other was orethrone.   

He being dead, two milk white doves,  
did hover over his head,  
And would not leave that heartless place,  
after he three hours was dead.  
Two milk white Butterflies did light,  
vpon his breeches there:  
And stood Confronting peoples sight,  
to their amaze and fear.   

Though he was vildly bent in life,  
and hanged the Law to quit:  
Yet he was stolen away by his wife▪  
and buried in the night.  
His true repentance is expressed,  
within the second part:  
With all his gilded he hath confessed,  
when troubled was his heart.   
FINIS.  by Thomas Dickerson.  

John Spenser his Repentance in Prison, Written with his own hands as he lay in Chester Castle.  
To the same tune.  
 woodcut of man being hanged  woodcut of woman  

KInd young men all to me give ear,  
observe these lessons well;  
For vndeserued my d●ath I took,  
and ●ad is the tale I tell.  
I prisond penned, I he full fast,  
sure heaven hath decreed:  
That though I thriued, yet at last,  
bad fortunes should proceed.   

I that for practise passed all,  
in exe●cises strong,  
Haue here for one offence but small,  
been penned in Prison long.  
Kind Countrymen, faire warning take,  
●eeing bad, amend your lives,  
For sure heaven will them forsake,  
that do forsake their wives.   

I haue a wife, a loving wife,  
a constant, and a kind;  
Yet proud of gifts, I turned my life,  
and false she did me find:  
heaven shewed his part in making me,  
proper in limbs and face,  
Yet of it I no true use made,  
but reaped thereby disgrace.   

For being proud in dancing● art,  
most womens loues I gaynd:  
By them a long time was my life  
in gallant sort maintaynd:  
No maiden young, about the town,  
but joyful was to see  
The face of Spenser, and would spend,  
all for to dance with me.   

I spent my time in rioting,  
and proud y●ed my life,  
I had my choice of damsels fair,  
what carded I for my wife,  
If once she came to entreat me home,  
i'd kick her out of doors,  
Indeed I would be ruld by none,  
but by enticing whores.   

At length being pledging of a glass,  
my hopes I did confounded:  
And in my rag I feld my friend,  
with one blow to the ground,  
For this offence, he being dead,  
and I in Prison cast:  
Most void of hopes this rashing hand  
hath Spensers name disgraced.   

None but my wife will visit me,  
for those I lou●d before,  
Being in this sad extremytie,  
will visit me no more,  
No help I find from these false friends,  
no food to enrich my life:  
Now do I find the difference true,  
twixt them and a constant wife   

But she poor soul, by my bad means,  
i● quit bereft of all:  
She plays the part of a Constant wife,  
although her helps be small.  
Young men, young men, take heed by me  
shun Dangers, brawls, and Strife:  
For though he fell against my will,  
I for it loose my life.   

O live like men and not like me,  
of no good gifts be proud:  
For if with you God angry be,  
from his vengeance nought can sh●oud.  
Make use of what you haue practice d well,  
and not in vicious means,  
If in rare gifts you do excel,  
yet trust not Vitiou● wickedness.   

For lust doth fully fill their veins,  
and apt they be to entice:  
O therefore shun their company,  
like good men still be wise.  
Example truly take of me,  
all vicious courses shun:  
For onely by ba● company,  
poor Spenser is undone.   
FINIS.  by John Spenser.  

Imprinted at London for I. Trundle